


A Deciding First Touch

by spinel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HP Next Gen Fest 2011, Harry Potter Next Generation, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Mildly Dubious Consent, awkward sex ahoy!, warning:crossgen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-19
Updated: 2012-05-19
Packaged: 2017-11-05 15:17:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinel/pseuds/spinel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Of course</i> the house wants them to have sex. An Auror story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Deciding First Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This was my entry for the [HP Next Gen Fest 2011](http://hp-nextgen-fest.livejournal.com/), which you can find [here on LJ](http://hp-nextgen-fest.livejournal.com/52020.html).
> 
> A thousand thanks to E for her never-ending patience at my whining, and C for going after my typos like a woman possessed. You're made of awesome, guys.
> 
> I obviously don't own anything. The prompt that inspired this can be found at the end.

Scorpius stared at the runes etched in the walls, and struggled with the rebellion of his stomach.

Sex, blood, and death.

They'd been learning their lesson not to go in blind and unsupervised, no matter that they were Aurors in training. But accompanied by The Man Who Lived, what was the worst that could happen?

The mansion had appeared on day atop a hill, close enough to Hogwarts to be of notice. Well, when Scorpius said mansion… It was more of a large house, with multiple small rooms fanning around a large chamber with a massive pillar right in the middle of it. No one had ever seen anything like it, and Scorpius had heard that both Aurors and Unspeakables had taken upon them the task of investigating it. It had seemed innocent enough, or as innocent as a suddenly Plottable premise could be. It had no known wizarding signature on it, did not seem particularly Dark and wasn't imbued with deadly intent. So the Ministry had uneasily declared it safe after half-a-dozen experienced Aurors—including the Man Who Lived—had scourged the dank stone walls for inscribed spells, traps, artifacts, and other assorted Dark paraphernalia. It had taken them a month, and they'd been thorough. But they had only found a lot of dust and books so ancient they fell to pieces with simple levitation spells.

But that was because those bloody Aurors had all been _old_.

Smith, Weasley, Auror Potter and himself had barely apparated within the confines of the four walls, Auror Potter's words of 'the place's been cleared for use, so it's raid training time!' still ringing in their ears, that the place had started shining like a beacon. Heavy magic had blanketed them; it tasted rancid under Scorpius' tongue. There were cries when Smith discovered the windows as well as the only door had disappeared, and Auror Potter was none too pleased to realise they were unable to apparate. But it was when Weasley's breath started hitching, her breath growing short and ragged, that everyone paused and rallied around her.

The runes shone a faint gold, etched in the walls and seeping with magic so old they could taste it. The same runes again and again, all along the stones of the main chamber, crawling up the pillar until they reached the ceiling. Weasley's eyes were wide and her lower lip was quivering.

Of course the house required a virgin sacrifice.

*

"What do you mean, a virgin sacrifice?" Potter's back was to them as he was examining the wall.

"You mean you don't see them?" Weasley asked, her voice weak.

"See what?" Potter snapped, stalking over to them and passing right next to the pillar. The runes rippled, darkening to a tarnished copper before burnishing gold again. Scorpius glanced over at Weasley and saw her lips tighten. She had seen it too.

"The runes, Unc—Sir." It was a testament to her nerves that she caught the slip before it actually went past her lips.

"What runes, Molly?" Potter asked, voice soft. He looked at her warily, his wand now pointed in her direction.

"The runes running all along the walls and the pillar, sir." Her voice was hard and her eyes had narrowed. For all that she had been a Hufflepuff, her spine showed when people doubted her.

"Do you see any runes, Smith?" Potter asked, not glancing behind him.

"No, sir." Potter's second in command threw a cursory look around then stepped up to his superior, going past the pillar as he did so. The inscriptions didn't even flicker.

Scorpius steeled himself and said, "I see them too, sir. And Weasley's right, the house is demanding a sacrifice. But I think…"

"We're not training you to think _yet_ , Auror Malfoy," Potter barked, head whipping in his direction. "What do you mean you see them too?"

"If you'd give us a minute, then!" Weasley said, her breath steadying. She turned towards one of the walls, her fingers ghosting over the glowing script. She mouthed silently for a few moments. "Malfoy, can you make out the exact meaning of the fourth line?"

It took Scorpius more time than he would have liked, but the runes were old and the syntax was unfamiliar. He struggled a bit, frowning at the ancient characters, before he waved his wand with a mutter and words started floating next to him. He added then removed some, arranging the hovering word soup into sentences, alternatively frowning at the wall then at his translation. "It's primitive at best," he finally said, turning to the others.

"Pure are the ones who enter but cannot leave

For their Blood must be Spilled

Onto the Centre

And their Innocence Taken

And Marked by the Master

It is He who hails their Venue

For they Strengthen and Protect

His continued Quest to enjoy

Purity"

"You chose 'purity'," Weasley said, pensive. "I would have just said 'virgin'."

"In this context, they are most likely interchangeable. I'm more concerned about this all-powerful master the runes mention—"

"You're both telling me this inscription is on those walls?"

"Not just once, sir. It's all around, from floor to ceiling, on the walls and on the pillar. It repeats itself, and it glows. The runes appear…" Weasley looked at the walls, intent. "Old. More than a thousand years, if I was pressed to guess."

"It's archaic magic, that's for certain." Scorpius paced to the other side of the antechamber, eyes running over the symbols over and over, the gamy taste in his mouth growing stronger. "You can feel it too, can't you? The magic." His eyes skittered across the others. "It tastes—" He smacked his lips and swallowed audibly. "—evil. Not a Darkness we know."

"But Darkness nonetheless." Potter looked around with a frustrated sigh. "This still doesn't explain why only you two can see those runes. I can feel the magic, Malfoy, but both you and Molly seem more affected. Smith?"

"I feel fine, sir. The only problem here that I can see is that we're trapped and cannot apparate out."

"We must have triggered something with our arrival," muttered Potter. "But we've been in and out of this bloody house for months now!"

Potter paced to and fro, face darkening and his mouth twisting in a progressive snarl. And as he moved the runes nearby flickered in and out of existence; when he stomped near Scorpius, the heavy smell in Scorpius' mouth faded away.

Purity. And power. The sudden realisation made Scorpius' stomach churn. But he needed to make sure.

So he said, "Weasley, you didn't give in to that tosser Vernier's advances, did you? Even though he was French," and Weasley turned violently red.

"Why should that be any of your business, Malfoy!"

"Because if you didn't, that would be why we'd be the only ones able to see those runes."

Their eyes met. Then Weasley slowly closed hers and slid to the floor and buried her head between her knees. "Fuck," she said.

"More along the lines of 'not', I should say," Scorpius finished, his lips pressed tight.

Potter stopped pacing and turned towards them. "Would you two stop muttering and care to enlighten us?"

"It's in the runes, sir," Scorpius said with a knot in his throat. "'Pure are the ones who enter but cannot leave'. It's an arcane translation, but… Both Molly and I can read it because we're 'pure'." Scorpius' cheeks felt hot. "We can also read it because we've become part of the spell the moment we apparated in here. We are the 'Pure ones who Strengthen and Protect'". A mirthless laugh escaped him. "The people who came in to clear the premises… They're all old and experienced Aurors. They all have families. Children. Molly and I are the first virgins who've stepped in this house since its reappearance."

"'Their blood must be spilled and their innocence taken'… Are they suggesting—" Potter's voice pitched slightly higher than usual.

"No," Scorpius said firmly. He then licked his lips. "But I am."

*

"'Blood must be spilled' and 'innocence taken' could mean sex," Scorpius argued. "It is a better alternative than the older interpretation of it meaning death. No one can afford the consequences of that."

Potter turned his back on them and strode towards one of the doors, yanking it open. "Give me another alternative. In the meantime, I'll try blasting our way out of here."

It took a few hours, but eventually the frustrated curses in the smaller alcove died down. Potter reappeared, sweaty, anger etched over his face. "The walls won't budge." He circled around the pillar, examining the stones. "I can't see _anything_ ," he groused. "But something definitely doesn't want us to leave."

"As we were saying, sir," Scorpius said, resuming their previous argument as if Potter hadn't walked away hours earlier. "The only advantage we have here is that sex magic is on par with the power of death magic. Truthfully, neither Weasley nor I can be certain what the original spellcaster intended with the formulation. But there might be a way that we can leave without you having to kill either of us."

Potter sputtered, then seemingly pulled himself together. "Weasley, Malfoy. You're obviously the only ones who can read those runes. I want an exact reproduction of them overlaid with the originals that you can see. Smith, go over every inch of this place. We may be able to levitate ourselves out if the roof has a weak point. We've already wasted enough time."

It took Scorpius and Weasley five hours. The reproduction was finicky, and their spells wouldn't stick. The dampness on the stones seemed to seep into their casting work, undoing it slowly. Scorpius found himself respelling the symbols into the air more often than not.

"I've never seen anything like it," Potter breathed, once they were done. Fine beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and Scorpius absently realised they were all short of breath.

"They glow too," Weasley snorted, wiping her brow with a barely concealed pant. "Merlin, this is unbelievable."

Only a faint cry answered her. "What the—"

They found Smith crumpled on the floor, robes soaked with sweat. He was heaving, and no reviving spell seemed to make a difference.

"Fuck!" Potter swore. Grunting, he arranged Smith by the wall, propping him up awkwardly. "All right." He wiped his forehead, then looked at his hand and frowned. "Something is happening. How hot is it?"

Weasley wordlessly gestured. Numbers painted themselves in the air and she said, "Not any hotter than when we arrived." She swallowed audibly. "Sir, we need to get out of here."

They had been in the house eleven hours already.

"I don't understand," Potter said finally. "There should have been reinforcements by now: I set a location tracking spell on myself before we left. But we've been here half a day!"

Neither Weasley nor Scorpius said anything to that. They sat in silence for another hour, before Scorpius spoke up hesitantly. "I think... This is going to sound silly," he said, voice harsh. "I think the house has become Unplottable again."

"Malfoy, do you realise what you're implying—"

"Uncle Harry, I think Scorpius is right," Weasley interrupted him, panting. Her red curls were limp and darkened with sweat, and her face was blotchy. "The magic... It's heavier. It _hurts_. Maybe if I..." She crawled over to Potter and nestled her face into his shoulder. His hand came up absently to stroke her hair even as his face twisted in alarm. "It feels better here," she sighed, voice weak.

Scorpius closed his eyes against the charming tableau of man and niece taking comfort in each other and forced his thoughts to clear. His breath came out short, and everything felt foggy. The runes were pulsing now, steadily thrumming, but fainter around Potter and Weasley. He made the magic come undone.

He was their key out of here. Well, he thought, licking his lips nervously. That settled it then. "I volunteer, sir." He kept his face wholly unreadable.

"Malfoy, what are you on about?" Potter said, strained. His breath was finally starting to come out unevenly.

Their time was running out.

Scorpius stared at the ancient script curled everywhere, then at his translation. He carefully didn't look at the other man.

"There must be the sacrifice of virginity. With blood. I volunteer."

"Done properly there is no bleeding involved, Malfoy," Potter said. He sounded angry.

"I'll nick all my fingers. As long as my blood is in contact with the stones when you... we... " Scorpius knew he was livid. He couldn't force himself to voice the end of his sentence.

"Malfoy—Scorpius." Potter's voice was gentle. "We can wait, Scorpius. Time isn't ticking."

"It is, sir. "Scorpius still could not look at him. "Look at Smith. Look at Molly! For Merlin's sake, if the house has the power to become Unplottable all by itself, we should just fuck and be done with it!" Oh _Merlin_. Scorpius swallowed against the bile rising in his throat. There was only silence beside him, and his head swam.

They were going to die.

*

"Scorpius, Scorpius!" His cheek stung and Scorpius came to, staring up into Potter's eyes, braced upwards by two strong, sinewy arms. "You're losing consciousness too," Potter muttered. "Fuck."

"That's the gist of it, sir." Scorpius felt as if something had died in his mouth. His thoughts were foggy. The runes were bright against his closed eyelids.

"What if it was you and Molly?" Potter almost pleaded.

"It has to be you, sir." Scorpius mumbled. "The runes seem to darken around you, and their effect is lessened. I think the house must think you're its new Master. The situation isn't ideal: but I would think you'd rather not shag Molly."

Potter let him fall backwards as if Scorpius were a burning coal. "Thank you for that charming input, Malfoy."

Scorpius remained prone on the floor. The ceiling was twisting. "Look, sir," he finally said tiredly. "I might not have too much time. The runes mention the 'Centre', and I believe that's the pillar. If I stand up against it... "

"Your palms will have to be braced against it," Potter finished. "That way we'll be sure your fingertips and blood are in contact with the stones at all times. Malfoy, look..." And this time, it was Potter who didn't finish his sentence; the subsequent silence was heavy with embarrassment. "What about oral sex?" Potter said in a rush.

"We both know it isn't as powerful as intercourse," Scorpius replied with a smile that was more like a grimace. He was still near Potter as the latter hadn't bothered getting up from beside him. It made the impending vertigo recede almost completely. "I'd rather not risk getting out of here on a technicality."

There was a silence before Potter asked quietly, "Do you have any preference?"

Scorpius started and a spectacular blush spread on his cheeks. "I thought..." He swallowed audibly. "I thought you would decide. Sir."

"This isn't hierarchical, Scorpius." Potter sounded almost kind.

"To be fair, I don't think I can do much." Scorpius barked out an exhausted laugh that came out as anything but. "But if you can't—if it's too repulsive—"

"Scorpius." Potter now sounded like an Auror again. "That won't be a problem."

_True, there are spells for that_ , Scorpius thought dimly. He got up, movements jerky, and headed to one of the adjacent rooms. "I'll go... prepare, then." He waved his hand in anticipation of Potter's protests, but stopped in his tracks when instead, he heard:

"You'll need to come too, Scorpius."

"There's no need to be crass, sir,"Scorpius croaked once his vocal chords finally complied with him. "And that truly isn't necessary; my blood should be an ample enough sacrifice."

"It was you who said you didn't want us trapped on a technicality, mister Malfoy," Potter retorted levelly. "Combining freely offered body fluids always summons the most powerful magic. And I'll be honest with you, Scorpius." Potter's laugh was grating. Scorpius still wasn't looking at him. "I'd rather minimise the feeling that I'm abusing you. It really isn't pleasant."

"Please be assured it's the same here, sir," Scorpius gritted out. "I'll just..." He left the rest of his sentence hanging as he slipped into one of the smaller alcoves. Away from Potter.

Looking around, there wasn't much there: a stone floor, damp walls, and light that came from the glowing runes in the antechamber. Summoning some light, Scorpius took his robes off, shuddering despite the heat coursing through him. Placing the fabric on the ground, he debated depleting his resources even more by transfiguring his robes into some sort of pallet, but in the end decided not to. He'd need all his wits about him if Potter's reactions were any indication. If the man could manage to sustain an erection, which should happen given magical help, then... He'd probably shove in to get it over with as fast as possible. Magical help meant more friction was needed till eventual release; Scorpius needed to make sure he wouldn't emerge from this irredeemably damaged. Dread settled heavily in his stomach as he unbuttoned his Muggle jeans and wiggled out of them to sit on his robes, the cold floor making him shiver.

He couldn't stand lubrication and stretching charms. He'd forgotten to tell Potter he didn't know any excitation charms either.

Pushing his drawers past his knees, he silently Summoned some salve and let his hand creep between his legs. He'd done this before, he thought, biting his lip as his fingers slid past his cock to push at his opening. He'd come from this stimulation before, one or two fingers pushing insistently at his prostate as he stripped his cock efficiently. He twisted two fingers in now, wincing at the stretch. It burned, the lubrication insufficient against his trembling hand, but he went in to the third knuckle, scissoring his fingers until he could feel his sphincter loosen. Summoning more lubrication he slowly pushed in a third finger, gasping at the sensation. He'd never felt so full. Merlin, he should have tried this _before_ , gotten used to this before...! His eyes watered as he quickly shifted his fingers, the pressure on his prostate prompting a low moan past his lips. To have something else fit in there, something that would push just right...

He was aroused.

His eyes were still burning when he slipped his fingers out of himself and absently wiped them on his robes, but his face was dry. He pulled his drawers back up past his trembling knees, slipping his denims back on but leaving them unbuttoned. He was only going to remove them again anyways.

He stumbled back out into the antechamber to see Potter carefully shifting Weasley so that she lay cheek to the wall, her back to the main pillar. Smith was already similarly propped up. "My head's beginning not to like this magic," Potter said in a deceptively neutral voice, still looking at Weasley. Or maybe just staring at the walls. "I don't want to risk casting a Cloaking spell, so this will have to do. Look, Scorpius. Are you sure you don't want to—"

Scorpius felt pathetically grateful their ordeal would seemingly have no witnesses. "I'm sure," he replied. "As if fucking _you_ would have no repercussions. No, it's better this way. I can also barely stand." He wiped the sweat from his brow, and his wrist came away soaking wet. "I'll just... stand here." He staggered to the pillar, leaning against it as he took out his wand, spelling a slash across both his palms. Blood welled up immediately, staining his denims and his drawers as he pushed them past his hips. He was still erect; wonders would never cease. He turned to the pillar, laying his hands flat against it and dropping his head against the cool stone. "You can do it now," he said, squeezing his eyes shut.

It was amazing the presence Potter had, Scorpius thought bitterly. The skin on his lower back prickled as he heard Potter shift and get up, then the soft rustling as he assumed Potter removed his outer robes. There was a metallic sound, and of course Potter would have those Muggle jeans with zippers on them, the ones Scorpius was too scared were going to catch the fabric of his underwear if he ever bought them. There was some more rustling, and then Potter muttered something and wet sounds resonated in the heavy silence. Scorpius' eyes were screwed so tight his temples hurt. Merlin, Potter was probably palming his now magically hard cock. Merlin.

_Merlin_.

He dimly though he heard Potter step closer, but then there was only a faint heat at his back and his own heavy pants. "Oh for the love of—" Scorpius finally bit out. His lashes were wet, but he wasn't thinking about that. "Would you just _do it_ , sir!"

He thought he heard a ragged snort; the runes most likely made him hallucinate. "Just Harry, Scorpius."

"I'd really rather not," Scorpius retorted stiffly. His bottom lip tasted metallic under his tongue now. "If you could just.. Could you just do it so we can go home?" He wanted to think he wasn't pleading. His arse felt hot.

Scorpius felt Potter falter behind him, and his nails tried to gouge the central pillar his forearms were braced against. Blood was steadily leaking from his fingers onto the pillar, onto his forearms. He bit his tongue. If Harry Potter wanted to be a bloody hero again, he could just take comfort in the fact that he wasn't fucking his unconscious niece.

Ah, he really should have stretched properly, Scorpius thought with mounting despair. He'd been too quick. Really, what type of wizard disliked lubrication and stretching charms? His erection was flagging, dread filling him. He didn't look back; he didn't really want to get a firsthand impression of the Hero of the Wizarding World's cock.

Air suddenly left his lungs when he felt the head of Potter's cock nudge in between his arsecheeks. The flesh was soft and slicked up, hot against his arsehole as Potter positioned himself. He panted, surprised and a little terrified, when Potter just held himself there and strong hands fisted themselves in his shirt, careful not to touch his skin. "You are aware Summoned lubricant leaves stains," he griped, his voice slightly higher-pitched than usual but remarkably steady, he thought, considering the circumstances.

"Not if it's water-based, Scorpius." It sounded like there might be a smile floating somewhere along Potter's mouth, but Scorpius had never elicited that kind of response from his supervisor; he thought it highly unlikely. To be fair, he'd not expected much when he signed up to the Auror training scheme: to the eternal distaste of his father he'd insisted on become part of Magical Law Enforcement. But truthfully, who else was going to employ him? He loved his father, but sneering down his nose at everyone and living like a recluse did not put him or his progeny in the good graces of many people. Scorpius wasn't stupid: as one of the best Ravenclaws to graduate in decades, with the highest marks in his year, only his name would stop him from joining the ranks of the Aurors. And Scorpius _knew_ Potter tried being ridiculously fair during the Auror application triage, because his own father had accused Potter of sabotage and the process had become transparent as a result. He thought his father hit the top of several lists at that time, at the Ministry. "Scorpius, slow down your breathing!"

He was wrenched back into the present, to large hands that were now gripping his sides tightly through his shirt. "Speaking makes thinking of anything else rather difficult, sir," Scorpius bit out.

"Well I need you to relax. And to brace."

Scorpius' breath rattled in his throat as Potter pushed against him, holding him steady. He was aware of the sweat dripping off his brow, of the metallic taste of blood as his bit on his tongue to stop what could have been a sob from escaping him, the unimaginable burn as Potter inexorably thrust into him. A violent shudder ran through him as Potter cleared the ring of muscle unexpectedly and Scorpius gasped, eyes suddenly wide open but unseeing, his bloody nails trying their best to score the stone pillar. He held himself as still as possible; his arse burned and itched something fierce. He was panting, wanting to wiggle but dreading the outcome. His muscles clenched around the hardness now inside him, and he realised Potter was not even close to being fully seated within him.

With a cry he tried to ram himself backwards, only to be immobilised by Potter's forearms pressing against his scapulae. His cheek flattened onto the pillar, and Potter's fingers splattered blood as they slapped against his own trembling ones. "You need to wait," Potter hissed. "I don't want to damage you!"

As if it could hurt anymore than it already did, Scorpius thought with despair. "Will you just shove it in? Get it over with! _Please_!" he tried to croak. Merlin knew if he was successful.

"Shut _up_ , Malfoy," Potter growled in his ear. "We need to take is as slow as possible."

_Merlin_. Scorpius closed his eyes and swallowed down the agonising sound that wanted to tear itself out of his throat. He sagged against the pillar, despondent, ineffectually trying to move away from Potter. But Potter moved with him, his pelvis following Scorpius' own, and Scorpius found no respite.

It took three minutes for the initial burn to fade into a more manageable discomfort. Scorpius was used to pain, could take most of what his fellow trainees threw at him. It was ridiculous he could not take this too. A _Sectumsempra_ from Weasley herself was not even on the same scale.

He could take this.

"You were right," he said with effort. "You must do this slowly. If you can push little by little, I can tell you when it gets too much."

"Scorpius—"

"For the love of Merlin, just do it!"

"You'll tell me when it's too much, do you hear?" Potter said, even as he started pushing—so very slowly—into Scorpius again.

"No, I'll willingly... suffer excruciating... pain and internal damage... to bolster your opinion of me," Scorpius replied, panting. He tried rolling his eyes nonetheless. Potter was careful and his movements minute; Scorpius felt his arse frantically working against the compliant hardness gradually sliding inside him. It still burned, and his eyes unwittingly teared up. Trust his first time to be as strange and uncomfortable as anything else had ever been in his life.

With a grunt, Potter suddenly stopped. "Give me a moment," he snarled. "You're tight."

"I'd apologise, but..." He interrupted the rest of his sentence with a cry, as Potter's cock brushed against his prostate and stars exploded behind his closed eyelids.

"Scorpius?"

"Good, that's _good_ ," he panted, fingers scrambling for purchase on the pillar. It had never felt like that with fingers, it was not even close! His whole body shuddered as Potter's cock slid past his prostate, and he suddenly realised he was hard. He was hard and his arse was trying to push back onto Potter's cock, his legs trying to spread further than his bunched up trousers would allow, his head dropping in between his arms to better angle his spine.

And Potter realised, Potter stopped pushing into him and instead started rocking against him, his cock a blunt pressure against Scorpius' prostate. Scorpius huffed and puffed and gasped, his soft whines rising to a wail as the friction became too much, not enough, just right—

"Please please please _please_ ," he blabbered, and Potter's hand had barely closed on his cock that Scorpius came, painting his release onto the glowing stones. He tightened around Potter, so full he felt Potter's cock reached up to his throat. An indescribable sound left him as he felt Potter continue to rock, the stimulation so strong his arse continued clenching frantically even as his cock started to soften. He moaned continuously, trying to bear down on Potter's cock, trying to get a less intense pressure, but Potter was relentless. "Too much, enough, enough," he finally pleaded in a croak, and the he felt Potter give a final push and he knew the other man was fully inside him. His insides were still quivering and he jerked when Potter thrust one, then twice, and then came with a strangled shout, his bloody hands gripping Scorpius' shoulders and no doubt leaving bruises.

With a yelp they both fell forward as the house disintegrated around them. Scorpius grazed his knees on soot and grass as he crashed on the ground, Potter still atop him.

They remained prone, Scorpius feeling Potter slowly soften in him. He opened his mouth but found no words to help him, so he shifted away, coughing up soot. Potter got the message and started to pull out before muttering, "Wait," and Summoning his robes. He wiped himself and Scorpius' arse before stumbling up, casting a quick cleaning charm on himself, and zipping his denims back up. Scorpius heard him Banishing his robes; he was still lying on the dewy grass. It was cold.

"Scorpius," Potter started, only to better stop.

Scorpius took a deep breath, tasting grass and rain and freedom. "No, I don't need you to spell me clean. Yes, I can get up on my own. No, I don't need your help."

Potter grunted. "Good." He stalked away, and Scorpius heard him cursing and casting reviving and warming charms.

He got up, shivering in the light rain: the adrenaline had left him a few minutes ago. He wriggled back into his damp pants, buttoned up his jeans. He did not bother casting a cleaning spell on himself; he couldn't stand them.

He didn't think he could stand anything right now.

He smoothed his shirt, tried ignoring the soreness in his arse and the clean-up it needed. Walking was uncomfortable.

"Malfoy, your hands!"

Scorpius jerked away, startled. Weasley had grasped his palms and it took all his will not to wrench them away from her. The open wounds were still bleeding. She cast a quick healing charm and a violent shudder wracked his frame. He tried remembering if he'd even heard it when Smith and Weasley had come back to, and when it had become dark.

"What happened? What happened, uncle Harry?" Weasley couldn't stop blabbering.

Potter didn't meet his eyes as he scooped up a fistful of mud and ash, spelling it into a container. "I'm not too sure, Molly. Scorpius' blood seems to have unlocked the curse. I gave it a little push, and it looks like the Unpottable spells unravelled. And with them, the house itself."

"Analysing the mud should definitely help in that assessment, sir," Smith added, sectioning a part of the grass and spelling it into another box. "We'll get to the bottom of this."

They finally apparated away, and no one but Potter watched Scorpius' gait as the trainees were dismissed.

*

They were given a few days off as Potter dealt with the fallout: the house hadn't just vanished, it had literally been consumed with the power unleashed by Potter. And by himself, Scorpius thought, trying to be objective. Potter had needed to use his body as a conduit, had managed to figure that out in the midst of an insane situation; he truly was a great Auror.

The sight of him made Scorpius' skin crawl.

He went through the rest of the week in a haze of theoretical seminars and mind-numbing filing briefings. He avoided even looking at Potter, gazing past the man's shoulder when his name was called up. He'd never been so attentive.

Weasley knew something was up. She confronted him during duelling practice, raining spells upon him that he barely had time to counter. Her anger and frustration gave her an edge he lacked, and he found himself on his back, her wand at his throat, faster than he would have liked. 

"What the hell is going on, Malfoy," she growled. She did not bother phrasing her query as a question.

Scorpius did not intend to answer her, but unthinkingly took the hand she held out to stumble back to his feet.

The wave of nausea took him by surprise. 

He swallowed the sour taste in his mouth, let her arm go, and tried not to think of it. But he discovered that Smith clapping him on the shoulder made him heave, that Weasley bumping his shoulder made bile rise up his throat, that Potter talking to him painted images in his mind that nauseated him.

His parents had him over for dinner. A hug from his father sent him to the loo.

*

It was Weasley who figured it out. She cornered him as he was changing out of sweat-soaked robes and casting a nausea relieving charm on himself that made him gag.

"Uncle Harry did something to you in that house, didn't he," she stated.

He continued changing, quite happy to ignore her.

"I know something happened, Malfoy. Uncle Harry's never been so snappish and short with everyone before, and you've never been so jumpy! Will you just spit it out?" She reached out to him, and he flinched away. Her gaze narrowed. "He touched you. Of course he did, I was the only other virgin and I was unconscious. He touched you, and now no one else can."

"You have too much imagination, Weasley." Scorpius felt faint.

"Have you talked to him about it? It may well be residual magic from the spelled runes, Malfoy, and it may well be dangerous for you! Have you tried body contact with him?"

"I bloody well don't want any other contact with Potter!" Scorpius' eyes widened as he realised he had yelled. His eyes widened as he saw Weasley come towards him, arms wide open. "Don't, _don't_!" 

"I very much will, Scorpius Malfoy," Molly snarled, and her hands came up around him as he twitched in her embrace, shudders of revulsion coursing through him. He felt sick. She petted his hair slowly; he wrenched himself away and retched. 

"I cannot do this," he finally said, wiping his mouth and uncaring that he got sick all over his sleeve.

Molly looked at him pityingly.

He glared at her. Surely Gringotts would take him. 

Surely.

the end.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Original prompt:** _Harry/Scorpius_ —(because old cliches are fun!) A group of trainee aurors and their supervisor are trapped in an ancient booby trap, and studious Scorpius interprets the runes and realises they need to sacrifice a virgin (yep, him) to get out. Some contrivance requires that it be Harry to shag Scorpius (powerful enough to divert it from death to sex? The only one who knows the mechanics well enough that Scorpius will let him near his arse, even though Scorpius is straighter than a plumb-line? A long-time crush and Scorpius seizes the chance?). Semi-public sex ensues.


End file.
